The Bride Wore Black
by Zebeckras
Summary: Still kind of old story, Webfoot continuity, lalala... Morgana's family lays the pressure on her to get married, so she picks Darkwing whether he likes it or not.
1. Chapter 1

Darkwing Duck: The Webfoot Weavings  
"The Bride Wore Black"

* * *

Act I

Morgana McCawber was a sorceress, but her family was just like anyone else's. Sure, not everyone else had parents who were hunted by village people as monsters, and most people's family pet had only one head, not two, but that didn't mean that they didn't meddle, just like most other families. Moloculo, Morgana's father, wouldn't let up about how she shouldn't "settle" for that Normal, Darkwing Duck, when she could have her pick of Monsters. And her Aunt Nasty wasn't any better. She was stuck in the old days, when young ladies got married and then, if their husbands weren't sorcerors, killed their spouses and _then_ pursued their careers as witches. Morgana's aunt had been unable to believe that she had already advanced this far in her magic abilities before she had been married.

"I was married by the time I was half your age," she said to Morgana, who was sitting at her vanity mirror, bored stiff of the same old speech. Morgana kept a polite expression on her face, but she was so tense that her fingernails were digging into the wood of her dresser. "A girl your age shouldn't be--"

"I know, I know," said Morgana impatiently. "But the only man I want to marry is Darkwing, and you and Father won't let me!"

This was Morgana's usual excuse, and it was only half true. Darkwing _was_ the only man she wanted, but honestly, Morgana had no desire to be married. "Settling down," they called it. No more adventure, no more excitement, no more spontaneity. Morgana didn't want to settle. She wanted to keep moving for the rest of her life.

"Well, sweetie, I discussed it with your father, and he says he's willing to let you marry that Normal if it'll make you happy!" said her aunt. "_And_, you don't have to kill him, either! Although, really, I'm sure you'd enjoy it if you tried..."

Morgana sighed. There went her last excuse... It was time to drop the facade, come right out and say it. "I just don't want to get married," she said, apologetic but firm.

Nasty wasn't fazed. "I don't think you know what you want, sweetbread. Why don't you just bring it up with Darkwing, and see what he thinks of the whole thing?"

Exhausted with the whole affair, Morgana sighed. "Alright, I'll discuss it with him. But he feels the same way as me, I'm warning you!" she said, thinking of Darkwing. Of course he wouldn't want to get married, she thought. Marriage was no more his style than it was hers. But, well... It couldn't hurt to ask, anyway. It wasn't like he'd say yes...

* * *

Beth Webfoot was an odd one, but Drake had taken something of a liking to her anyway. At the moment, she was at his house cleaning the kitchen sink. "You don't have to do that, you know, Beth," he said as she scrubbed the metal sides of the sink.

"Nah, it's okay, Drake. I have absolutely nothing else to do, so I figured, why _not_ go clean the Mallards' house?" she said, holding the sponge in her rubber-gloved hands.

"Well, you could clean your _own_ house," he said. It occured to him that Beth spent an extraordinary amount of time at the Mallard residence, especially considering that she quit her job babysitting Gosalyn.

"Everything there's clean already," she said as she leaned over the side of the sink.

"Of course," said Drake. He was in a pretty good mood that day due to anticipation of an upcoming date with Morgana McCawber. Humming a little, he suddenly wondered if Beth still had a crush on him. She had been pretty enamored with him before, but in the past few weeks, she'd been spending large amounts of time with Launchpad. That was good, Drake realized, since Launchpad had just as much of a crush on her as she did on Drake. But still, somehow, deep down inside, he kind of hoped that she still liked him.

"Gee, Drake, you sure sound happy this afternoon," said Beth. "What's happened to make you so perky?"

"Oh, I've got a, sort of an appointment tonight," he said, not wishing to hurt her feelings if she was still hung up on him. "I'll be going to dinner with Morgana to discuss... business," he said, thinking this was a satisfactory answer. Immediately, however, he realized that she had never heard anything about Morgana. She froze, confused, with a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach then opened her mouth and took a breath to say something. Drake, knowing what her question would be, cut her off with, "I better go get ready." He left the room quickly and locked himself in the bathroom.

Beth, somewhat perplexed, walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, where Launchpad and Gosalyn were watching TV. "Uh, guys?" she said, standing behind the couch. They turned around.

"Hi, Beth!" said Launchpad cheerfully, always happy to see her.

"Hi," said Gosalyn, and stole Launchpad's popcorn while his back was turned.

"Hi... I was just wondering something. Who's Morgana?" she said, trying to keep the right tone of curiosity and good humour in her voice, as opposed to what she was really feeling: curiosity and a large amount of jealousy.

Gosalyn and Launchpad gave each other an "Uh-oh," look out of the corner of their eyes. "She's, uh... DW's sister-in-law?" suggested Launchpad.

"Try again, Launchpad," said Beth. Launchpad was a _terrible_ liar. Of course, it helped that Beth knew that Drake didn't _have_ a sister-in-law.

"I know! Morgana's my old, ugly aunt that Dad can't stand!" said Gosalyn, not the least bit convincingly.

"Come on, you guys. I really want to know this. It won't bother me or anything," said Beth, smiling.

Gosalyn paused for a moment, and looked at Launchpad. He shrugged. Gosalyn looked at Beth, who obviously wouldn't accept anything but the truth, and said, "Morgana is sorta Dad's girlfriend. He's been seeing her for a while now- way before he met you. I know I shoulda told you sooner, but--"

Beth cut her off, still wearing the same smile, and said in a too-casual tone: "Oh! Well, if I'd known he had a _girlfriend_, I'd never have fallen for him." Then she turned around and left, shutting the door hard behind her.

"Whew," said Launchpad. "I was afraid she was gonna be upset!"

* * *

Morgana and Darkwing's dates were always at the same place: A charmed little graveyard with lots of atmosphere, where the food was just right- for Morgana's taste, anyway.

"You're not touching your Eel Eye Souffle, Dark darling! Is something wrong?" asked Morgana.

"Huh?" said Darkwing, breaking out of the sort of trance he had fallen into while gazing at Morgana from across the table. "No, no, nothing's wrong, Morgue, I just, ah, don't have much of an appetite tonight," said Darkwing. Past experience had taught him that, when it came to Morgana's food, lying was a lot safer.

"Really? Why not?" she asked curtly. There was an edge to her voice that made him nervous, one that he had heard all too many times. "You're not sick, are you? Because if that's the case, I can easily whip up a potion that can fix you up in no time!" She looked at him intensely, almost daring him to lie.

More distressed over the prospect of drinking one of Morgana's potions than over fighting with her, Darkwing pondered his dilemma, then decided to come clean. "Well, actually, Morgue, I just don't really relish the idea of eating food that can eat me back. It's nothing personal, sweetie," he said, trying his best to be tactful. She didn't look pleased at first, and Darkwing began to quietly look for a hiding place. But then, she shut her eyes and accepted his explanation without an argument. She seemed like she was really trying, but she did it. When she opened her eyes again, she smiled tensely at him. He smiled back, admiring the shine of her eyes in the moonlight. Morgana was, without a doubt, one of the loveliest women Darkwing had ever laid eyes on, and he considered himself incredibly lucky to be dating her. She was so beautiful when she smiled, too!

But there was something odd about her smile tonight; it was as if she was hiding something, or trying to gain the courage to do something. "Well, I guess it _is_ your choice."

Looking slightly smug, Darkwing said, "It certainly is. You know something, Morgue, I don't think we've had an evening like this in quite some time now. Normally when we go out, you get so touchy, and then we start fighting-"

Morgana lit up again immediately. "I _what_! **_Touchy!_** The _only_ reason I get 'touchy' is because you keep saying such stupid things!"

"HEY! I never say stupid things! You just hear them wrong, and then I get fried!" He realized then that he'd gone too far. Morgana was scowling at him, and her eyes were red. He backtracked quickly. "I certainly said something stupid just then, didn't I?"

To his surprise, she calmed down a lot. "Well- maybe I am a... _little_ bit 'touchy'," she said. They both smiled hesitantly. Now was the moment, Darkwing decided, to kiss and make up. He leaned torwards her, and just then the waiter tapped on his shoulder.

"Agh!" he said, and jumped. The waiters at the graveyard always unnerved him, especially because a large majority of them were skeletal, and all of them seemed to be, well, dead. (Morgana had informed him that they preferred the term "Living Impaired".)

"Is there something wrong with your Eel Eye Souffle, sir? Should we freshen it up for you?" said the waiter in a hollow, creaky voice.

"No thank you," growled Darkwing through gritted teeth. "It's just fine."

"Well, it's just that we noticed you hadn't been eating it, and--"

"I said it's fine! Understand that! You can go now! Begone!" snapped Darkwing.

The waiter sniffed. "Well then! If you're going to be haughty about it..." With that, he turned on his heel and walked off, his bones rattling dryly.

"Now, then, where were we?" said Darkwing cooly, turning back to Morgana. She sighed audibly and turned her head. Darkwing frowned-- this wasn't like her at all. If something was bothering Morgana, she usually came right out and said what it was. "What's wrong, Morgue?"

"Oh, Dark, I was just thinking that if you don't like my style of cooking, how would we get along for the rest of our lives?" she said, sadly.

'For the rest of our-'? That sounded like... "Uh, what do you mean, Morgana?" said Darkwing, getting a little nervous. He sat back into his seat.

"Well," began Morgana cautiously, more than a bit nervous herself, "I mean, if we were to... That is, don't you ever think about marriage, Dark?"

Darkwing went into a violent coughing fit. "M-m-marriage?" he managed to choke out.

"Well, yes," she said irritably. "After all, when two people love each other, sometimes they get married, don't they? Is it such a strange concept!"

"No, no, not at all, but--"

"But _what_?"

"But... I'msorryMorganabutI'mjustnotthemarryingtypeifyouknowwhatImean!" He gulped, watching her for a reaction.

She was silent. Then: "Do you love me, Dark?" She knew that a question like this jeapordized their whole relationship, but suddenly she just _had_ to know.

Darkwing, nervous and worried to begin with, made the situation worse and began to stutter terribly. "W-well, I-I-I mean, l-l-lo-- That's a pretty long t-term commitment and--"

"Never mind, Darkwing. You just answered my question," she said coldly, and stood up from the table.

"Wait- Morgue--" said Darkwing in a last ditch attempt to explain himself. She was leaving, and if she left now, like this, he might never see her again.

"OH, GO HOME!" she yelled angrily, her eyes glowing bright red. She turned and zapped him, hard, booting him into the stratosphere. Then she left, muttering, "Dark, you _idiot_."

* * *

"Morgana, don't worry. There are other men out there! Better suited for you that _that_, certainly!" said Aunt Nasty a few hours later.

"NO! If I marry anyone, it'll be Darkwing!" said Morgana stubbornly. She didn't need anyone telling her what to do when it came to relationships. Her life was her own. If she wanted to marry Darkwing, she was going to marry Darkwing! She never stopped to wonder when she'd actually started wanting to get married.

"Alright then, if you're really that serious."

"I am!"

"No female in the McCawber line has ever needed help in ensnaring a man, but a little friendly advice never hurt. Keep this in mind: If he won't _willingly_ consent to marriage, there are... other methods."

"Other methods? What do you mean?"

"Foof bombs, dear."

"Foof bombs- of course!" said Morgana. She had forgotten about them, it had been so long ago that she'd recieved them. The last time that Morgana had seen Magica DeSpell, her half-aunt (twice removed) had brought a little gift: a handful of Foof bombs, her most effective weapon against the Duckburg miser Scrooge McDuck. They stunned the victim motionless for a short period of time, during which any number of spells could be administered. Once the victim was comatose, a slave-spell could be administered, making the effects more permanent. (Behind Magica's back, there were a number of snide comments along the lines that the Foof bombs were the only form of magic that Magica could work right.)

"Zombie lipstick... No, that's _too_ permanent," said Morgana as she searched through the slave spells in her repertoire. "Poison apple, too thorough... Ah! Here's a good one: the Sleep of Ages! 'The victim will respond to stimuli as though he were conscious, but will do nothing other than your will,'" she read aloud to herself. "And it can be removed with a verbal command! Perfect! Darkwing will yet be mine!"


	2. Act II

"The Bride Wore Black"

* * *

Act II

"I'm exhausted!" announced Darkwing three days later as he flopped down onto his living room couch.

"So am I!" said Gosalyn, searching under the couch cushions for the remote control and consequently dumping her father off the couch.

"_You_? Why the heck are _you_ exhausted? I'm the one who's been stopping all those crimes lately!" said Darkwing.

Gosalyn scowled. "Hey, you think it's a piece of cake going to _school_ day in and day out? All that work-- it's terrible!"

"At the last parent-teacher conference your teacher told me you sleep through every class except lunch!"

"Yeah, well... lunch can be a real strain!" said Gosalyn, refusing to give up. "But, hey, you stop crimes _every_ night, not just lately!"

"It's more than every night... it seems like I'm doing it every _minute_! Even during the day, something keeps popping up, and I haven't had any chances to get some rest. So give me five minutes to catch a quick catnap--" said Darkwing as he sat back down on the couch, but time was against him.

"DW!" cried Launchpad, running into the room. "Robbery at the St. Canard Compass Factory!"

Darkwing sat up and gave his daughter a 'See, what did I tell you?' look. "The _Compass_ Factory? Why the heck would anyone rob a Compass Factory?" he said in disbelief.

"I dunno. Maybe they've got a terrible sense of direction and they're really absent-minded, so they wanted to get a lot of compasses at the same time to guarantee that they wouldn't lose their only compass!" offered Launchpad.

Darkwing paused. "It was a rhetorical question, Launchpad," he said tonelessly.

"Oh."

Wearily, Darkwing stood up and made his way to the chairs in the corner of the room. "Well, no matter. C'mon, LP, let's get--" he sighed even more wearily, "--dangerous."

Minutes later, Darkwing and his sidekick were speeding along the streets of St. Canard in the Ratcatcher. "So, let's see, so far the First, Second, Seventh, and Thirteenth National Banks have been hit, the local jewelry stores have been cleaned out, the grocery stores, pharmacies, and Quik-Marts have been robbed, and the Rubber Tree Plant has disappeared. What could be doing this?" he speculated.

"Ummm... Ants?" suggested Launchpad.

"Launchpad, even forgetting the lack of motive and the fact that insects have no need for money, _everyone_ knows an ant can't move a Rubber Tree Plant!" said Darkwing.

"Sorry, DW. Y'know, it's funny, but it seems like all of these robberies are being committed by creepy things-- you know, like spiders and rats and stuff like that."

"You know, now that you mention it, that's right," said Darkwing. He pulled up at the Compass Factory, which had dark clouds gathering above it. "Why do you think that is?"

"DW -- who d'ya think of when you think of creepy things?"

"Hey, hey, hey, you better not be implying that Morgana would-- You know she's gone straight! She's a member of the Justice Ducks, for crying out loud!" said Darkwing furiously. He shushed Launchpad and they crept inside, then Darkwing exploded a blue smoke cartridge. As he stepped out of it, he got as far as "I am the Terr- OOF!" before a huge pair of grey wolves pounced on both him and Darkwing.

"Uhhhhh--Nice doggies?" said Launchpad nervously.

"Whatever you do, LP, don't let them know you're scared!" hissed Darkwing. "Aw, what a cute wittle pooch!" he said out loud. The wolf, snarling, bent lower towards Darkwing with his jaws open. Darkwing suddenly brought both his arms up, knocking the wolf off of him. He leapt up and made a run for it.

"Go, DW, go!" yelled Launchpad encouragingly. The wolf that had been sitting on his chest got up and ran after Darkwing too.

Nearby, in a dark alcove, a shadowy figure stood. "Oh, Dark, why do you always have to put up a fight?" said Morgana to herself as she absently rubbed the surface of the foof bomb she held in her hand. She watched her wolves silently, trusting them to do the job she'd charged them with.

Darkwing made it nearly two hundred feet before he was caught. The wolf very gently took the fabric of his jacket in its mouth and dragged him, kicking and screaming, towards the alcove where Morgana was standing. It growled softly out of the corner of its mouth, and Darkwing quieted down a little.

"Hey! Here, puppies!" yelled Launchpad from across the room. The wolves looked up-- he was holding two huge raw steaks. Their jaws dropped, and Darkwing fell to the floor. Both of the wolves reached Launchpad and pounced onto him, licking his face in gratitude. Then they allowed themselves to be pushed off of his chest and set about to devouring the steaks.

"Quick thinking, LP!" said Darkwing, brushing himself off. "Let's get some collars and leashes, and we'll take care of these boys!"

Unseen, Morgana gritted her teeth and smacked her hand to her forehead. She waved her hands and both the wolves disappeared in mid-chew. She was quick to follow.

"Whoa!" said Launchpad. "I told you something weird was going on. Let's get out of here!"

"I'm with you, pal," said Darkwing. They quickly went back to the Ratcatcher and started home.

* * *

"That's it! That's the last straw--it's time to pull out _all_ the stops!" cried Morgana. "Archie, get a message to Darkwing, can you do that, sweetie?"

A large, hairy spider crawled out of Morgana's hair and grumbled ill-naturedly.

"Oh, thank you! You're so wonderful! Now, here's what you say..." She whispered his instructions in the spot where his ear would be, and then sent him scuttling off to complete his mission. He grumbled the entire way.

* * *

"This time _nothing_ will stop me from taking a nap," said Darkwing as he stretched out on the couch. "Not Gosalyn, not Launchpad, not even-- Beth?" Beth hadn't set foot in the house since she'd found out about Morgana, about three days ago. Darkwing, although he felt bad, expected this, so he was more than a little surprised to see her quite suddenly walk out of his kitchen.

"Oh. Hello," she said coolly.

"Hi," he said, trying to be cheerful despite the fact that he was exhausted. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Hm... You're right, I haven't been over in a while. I'd lost track," she lied. "I just came by to make sure Gosalyn was okay." She looked from side to side a little too much, avoiding eye contact with him altogether. The real giveaway, though, was her tone of voice. It was a little too nonchalant. She obviously wanted more than anything for him to think that she didn't care about him anymore, but her chilly attitude towards him was so out of character that he started to feel sorry for her. She seemed to be in a lot of pain.

"You've been busy?" he asked, trying to begin a conversation. He felt a tickling on his leg, and reached down to brush it away.

"Well, I--" began Beth, but stopped as soon as she saw what was on Darkwing's leg. Then she shrieked, _loudly_.

As she started to scream, his hand made contact with the object crawling up him. It was very, very big, and furry. He looked down and saw Archie. "GAH!" he said, pulling his hand back and flinching. He started shaking his leg as hard as he could to fling it off.

"Oh, I _hate_ spiders! Spiders are _the worst_ lifeform on the planet!" Beth was saying as she backed into a corner as far from Archie as she could get. She hugged her knees to her chest.

"Was that Beth that screamed?" called Gosalyn, running downstairs from her room. She saw Archie, clinging for dear life to Darkwing's leg. Darkwing, meanwhile, had a rolled up magazine that he was preparing to bring down from above his head. "DAD! NO!"

"Beth? Are you okay?" asked Launchpad, a little bit delayed in his reaction to her. He was coming in from the front yard, and he ran to her side as fast as he could. "What's the matter?" She refused to answer him, afraid that if she opened her mouth she'd just gag from disgust. She pointed at the spider crawling up Darkwing's leg. "Eeeeeeeww!" said Launchpad, and flattened himself against the wall to get away from it.

"Whattaya mean, 'No'?" asked Darkwing, freezing with his arm raised in the air.

"I mean, no! Dad, it's _Archie_!" said Gosalyn, coming over and taking Archie into her hands. Beth, in the corner, gasped and passed out. Launchpad started fanning her. "You know, Morgana's Archie?"

"Right, right, I recognize him now. What does he want?"

Archie, recovering from his near-death experience (which, incidentally, seemed to happen every time he sent Darkwing a message from Morgana-- He was starting to wish she'd do her own dirty work), grumbled quietly out of the corner of his mouth.

"What?" said Darkwing, scratching his head.

"What is it, boy? Is Morgana in trouble?" asked Gosalyn, listening closely.

Archie grumbled louder, although not in an attempt to relate Morgana's message; this was just general grumbling. There were few jokes that Archie hated more than the old Lassie "Is Timmy in trouble?" variation. He swallowed his distaste and repeated what Morgana had told him to say.

"Someone fell into Devil's Gorge and has a compound fracture of the lower mandible?" translated Darkwing, scratching his head.

"No, Dad! Morgana's in trouble! Some of your old enemies are holding her hostage in the Bean Cannery!" said Gosalyn. Archie grumbled in agreement.

"How did you figure that one out? Everything he says sounds the same to me!" said Darkwing, perplexed.

"When you're my age, you mumble a lot, Dad," said Gosalyn. She set the spider onto the ground and said, "Lead the way, Arch!"

"I'm sorry- it's just that spiders freak me out," Beth was saying to Launchpad, having recovered somewhat.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Me, too. So, you're afraid of slugs, beetles, _and_ spiders?" he asked as he helped her to her feet.

She looked sick. "Can we _please_ talk about something else?"

"Launchpad, are you coming, or aren't you?" asked Darkwing, pausing on his way out the door.

Launchpad started to follow them, then looked back at Beth. "Well, I..."

Darkwing sighed. "You can bring Beth along if you want, I guess..."

"Following a spider around town, no, I don't think so," said Beth. It was a good excuse, she thought, to get away from him. Although deep down inside she admitted to herself that she wanted him to know she was avoiding him because of _him_, not just a spider.

Darkwing was a bit irritated by this. "Well, fine. It's not like I _need_ you there. I don't _need_ either of you!" he said. The last part slipped out before he even considered it.

Launchpad blinked, and then looked down at Beth again. "I think Beth and I are gonna go out and get milkshakes," he said. "Hamburger Hippo, like usual? How's that sound?"

"Great," she said, smiling up at him. They went out for milkshakes often. They usually talked a lot when they did, basically getting to know one another better and better. Both of them enjoyed this immensely.

"Chocolate?" he asked, as he always did.

Her reply was her usual one. "Darn straight."

"I want a milkshake too!" said Gosalyn.

"What? You're not going to help me?" asked Darkwing.

"Aw, Dad, I want a milkshake! I haven't had one in weeks!"

"You got one last night!" he said.

"Um, no, I didn't. You're so tired you're remembering things wrong." Gosalyn took the only way out of this lie that she could think of, which of course was another lie.

He looked pensive. "Well... I guess you're right. Oh well, fine, you can all go get milkshakes. I can take care of this alone." He had, of course, realized that rescuing Morgana single-handedly was a great way to get her forgiveness for the other night. He dashed out the door after Archie, in the direction of the Bean Cannery.

* * *

"Help," said Morgana airily, tied to a chair. "Oh, help-- Am I at all convincing?"

Eek and Squeak, the two bats fluttering above her head, squeaked a resoundingly negative answer.

"Well, I've never done this before. How am I supposed to know how to call for help?" she said, a bit irritably. They squeaked some more. "Sorry. I'm just nervous, darlings. How's this: Heeeeeelp, oh, heeeeeelllllp me!" she cried, drawing each word out as much as she could.

"Don't worry, Morgana, I'm _here_!" yelled Darkwing, making his entrance with a bit less flair than he normally did. No blue smoke, no announcement prior to his entrance-- He just ran right in. He looked worried. Morgana couldn't help smiling- he was sweet, when it mattered.

"Oh, thank goodness, Dark darling! It's been terrible! Look out for the traps," she added. He looked around him and saw a few badly hidden traps, such as a precariously perched axe and a wire that would trip a bomb. He disabled both as quickly as he could, while making his way to Morgana.

He was nearly there when he stepped on a small button that had escaped his attention, and a large sandbag promptly fell on him from above. He collapsed with an "oof!"

"Oops, I really thought he'd see that one," mumbled Morgana. "Oh, well. Serves him right for not wanting to marry me in the first place." She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she was starting to feel a little guilty. He was so valiant, so trusting, and she really did love him. After watching his numerous attempts to wriggle out from under the bag, she rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers. The sandbag lifted itself up into the air, freeing him.

He sprang to his feet (or at least, made a nice attempt at springing to his feet), and cried, "Morgue, darling, I've done it!"

"Indeed you have," she said. She snapped her fingers again and the rope that held her to the chair fell away. She stood up gracefully and, seeing his stunned look of incomprehension, smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Dark... I'll explain later!" she said. Then she tossed the Foof bomb at his feet.

"Well, that went well," she said, and then, looking downward, added softly, "I guess." She suddenly realized that she wasn't even entirely sure why she'd done this. If she needed reassurance that he loved her, well, making him her mindless slave wasn't going to help. "I, ah, I guess we'd better get him back to the house. Eek, Squeak-- You can carry him, can't you?" The bats looked at each other and moaned, then each one grabbed his jacket at the shoulders and started to lift him into the air.

Suddenly the door swung open, and Gosalyn, Launchpad, and a very reluctant-looking Beth stepped in. "Hey, DW, we gotcha a chocolate milkshake--" Launchpad trailed off as he fully took in the scene before him. "What happened? Is he okay?"

"Oh-- Well, he, I... ah...," Morgana stuttered, trying desperately to think of an excuse. She stepped away from Darkwing awkwardly, and her bats dropped him in surprise.

"Morgana, what's going on? Did something happen to Dad?" asked Gosalyn.

Beth, who had been staring sullenly at the floor, suddenly looked up when the name "Morgana" was mentioned. Her eyes grew wide. Morgana was tall, shapely, absolutely _gorgeous_, the kind of woman any man would drop dead for. "Oh, geez," Beth said under her breath as she looked her "rival" over slowly, "like I ever had a _chance_."

The only one who heard this, interestingly enough, was Morgana, who was keenly aware of everything that was going on in the room at that moment. She stared back at the brown-haired woman, looking her over every bit as carefully as she herself was being looked at. The woman was thin, a bit dull-looking perhaps, but pretty, in a self-conscious way. Whoever this was, she was glaring at her as though she knew exactly what had happened.

"Well, you see..." Morgana paused again. She couldn't think of anything to say but the truth. She swallowed her unease, telling herself that Gosalyn would understand. "We've been having a few communication problems lately, and well..."

Gosalyn interrupted her. "You mean _you_ made him into a zombie? What kind of a girlfriend _are_ you!" she exclaimed furiously. Launchpad frowned and clenched his fists. Beth looked at her with an expression of cool dislike, vaguely apathetic about all the events going on.

"Well, this was a mistake," muttered Morgana to herself. They were waiting for her to tell them that it wasn't what it had seemed, and that there was some other explanation she hadn't mentioned yet. She had no other explanation, and as she saw it, no other choice, either. She reached into her handbag.

Beth's mind, for once, was working faster than her mouth instead of vice versa. She was able to think, very clearly, "Hey, she's got a bomb!" in the instant that she saw Morgana's hand slip out of her purse. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened to announce the observation, but by that time it was too late. The milkshakes slipped out of their hands and splattered on the floor of the Bean Cannery. Their eyes went completely blank, and so did their minds.

"Now how in the world am I going to get _all_ of them home?" said Morgana aloud. Eek and Squeak looked at each other and groaned again.

* * *

A few days later the wedding preparations began. Deep down inside Morgana didn't feel so great about the whole thing. She tried to pass it off as pre-wedding jitters, but this felt less like nerves and more like... well... _guilt_.

The conversation that she'd had with her aunt hadn't helped much:

"Are you sure that I'm doing the right thing?"

"Oh, right, schmite. Right and wrong don't matter these days, dearie... All that matters is that you're happy," Aunt Nasty had answered.

Morgana didn't even know if she _was_ happy at this point. "But that's _not_ what I asked!" she said. "Am I right, or am I wrong?"

"You're perfectly in the right!" Aunt Nasty dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "Now, to a _Normal_ this might not look right. If you're thinking _that_ way... Maybe you've been spending a little too much time with that kind..."

Morgana held her tongue.


	3. Act III

"The Bride Wore Black"

* * *

Act III

"Put the hem a little lower. No, _lower_," instructed Morgana as Beth sewed her wedding dress for her.

"Happy to, Morgue!" said Beth cheerfully. Out of her four zombie-friends, Morgana knew Beth the least. Maybe it was for this reason that Morgana found her so intriguing. Would she be this agreeable without the Sleep of Ages? This friendly? Did she really love Dark as much as she seemed to? Beth evidently hadn't liked Morgana much before the spell was cast, and she certainly had reason to hate her now. But Morgana barely knew her, and instead of making it easier for her to enslave Beth, this somehow made it harder. Well, there was no reason that the two of them couldn't talk, Morgana reasoned. She decided to start on a topic that she knew they both had in common.

"Beth?" she said as the young woman's fingers flew back and forth with the needle.

"Yah?" she asked, and looked up. Her eyes weren't blank anymore. In fact, they looked quite lively. That was part of the Sleep of Ages: the victims seemed mostly normal, except that they would follow any request their master issued without question.

"You love Darkwing, don't you?"

"Oh, _madly_," said Beth, and went back to her sewing.

"As much as I do?"

Beth paused again, considering the question. "Maybe," she replied, "but I sure don't deserve to marry him, the way you do." She smiled.

Somehow this answer picked at Morgana's nerves a bit. It struck her that Beth had too much humility... Enough to offset Dark's ego, easily. Maybe she was the reason he wasn't interested in marriage at the moment. "You're going to stay away from him now, aren't you?" ordered Morgana, with a tinge of anger.

"Of course! He's yours now, I wouldn't dream of touching him!" Beth looked sincerely shocked and a little insulted that Morgana had doubted her loyalty. "He always was yours, really," she added, less cheerfully. She returned once again to her work.

Morgana felt somewhat ashamed that she had gotten so upset with Beth; the girl was one of the few people she'd ever met who really was sincerely honest. As she thought that, one of the few other people she knew who was honest came into the room.

"Hi, Morgana," said Launchpad, who was carrying a large amount of black roses. "Hey, Beth." He said this quietly, a little shyly, and grinned at Beth. Morgana clearly saw his emotions laying wide open in front of them. But, maybe because of the spell, Beth didn't see Launchpad's feelings for her at all.

"Hi, Launchpad!" she exclaimed happily. "Look, I'm halfway done!" She held up the pinned, loosely sewn black satin dress she was working on. "Won't it look great on Morgana? I mean, if I can do it right."

"You're doin' a bang-up job," said Launchpad, grinning heartily. He walked past Morgana as though he suddenly didn't see her. "It'll look great on Morgana, all right..." He smiled at her, took a deep breath, and said, "It'd also look, um, real nice on you."

Morgana broke out into a charmed smile. Watching this was suddenly like a movie, a very romantic scene. She was enjoying it.

"Oh. You think so?" said Beth, somewhat charmed as well. She put the dress down and looked Launchpad right in the eye. He had set his chin in his hand, which he had leaned on the table Beth was working on. "I don't think it's right for me at all."

"Sure it is," Launchpad assured her. "Maybe blue'd be better, though. To match your eyes. You got really pretty eyes, Beth."

Beth blushed deeply and whispered, "Thank you."

Morgana suddenly wondered if this scene was really happening naturally. What if, subconsciously, she was trying to use Launchpad as a distraction for Beth, to keep her away from Dark? All of a sudden the fact that this moment resembled a movie sickened her. 'What am I doing?' she asked herself. She couldn't stand to think that she was manipulating Beth and Launchpad into playing this scene, so she decided to put a stop to it.

"Beth."

She snapped back to attention, turning her head away from Launchpad. "Yes?"

"Back to your work," ordered Morgana. Beth nodded and began sewing very intently. "Launchpad, take those flowers to the hall."

"Hey, no problemo, boss lady. See ya, Beth!" he said as he headed for the door, and he waved back at them over his shoulder.

"Bye," mumbled Beth, without looking up.

"Well, Beth, I'm going to check up on Gosalyn and then get to work on the invitations. Keep up the good work," said Morgana, and she stepped out the door and made her way to the dining hall.

"How's it coming, Gosalyn?" she said, poking her head through the door.

"Great, Mom," chirped Gosalyn. She was polishing silverware happily. "I also did the candlesticks!" The 'mom' thing hadn't been Morgana's idea - Gosalyn had started it on her own. Morgana was letting her keep it, though, until she figured out whether she liked it or not.

"That's --That's good," said Morgana. She suddenly again felt mildly assaulted by unease. "Well, I have to go fix up the invitations."

"Can I help?" Gosalyn looked at her with eyes of total innocence. The Sleep of Ages had had a weird effect on her. Gosalyn had never been this perky in real life, or innocent.

"Well, this is really something I should handle on my own." To Morgana, the excuse sounded lame, and almost cruel. Gosalyn swallowed it instantly, though, and chirped her assent.

As Morgana was on her way down the hall, Gosalyn delivered the clincher: "I love you, Mom!" Despite herself, Morgana winced as she walked towards the study.

She decided to try to turn her thoughts to more pleasant subjects, and let her mind wander. She ended up wondering about changing her name after the wedding. "Mrs. Morgana Mallard... Mrs. Morgana McCawber-Mallard... Mrs. Morgana Mallard-McCawber... Hmmm. Mr. Drake McCawber. I like the sound of that," she said as she settled herself in the chair in front of her desk. She pushed the gnawing guilt at the back of her mind away.

* * *

She kept it controlled for another twenty-four hours, and then, late the next night, Morgana crept downstairs from her room. It wasn't as if everyone in her house was asleep - It was late at night, and what self-respecting McCawber would be sitting at home at three o'clock on a night like this? Her entire family was out having fun. Morgana had stayed at home, claiming that she wanted to rest before the big day. She was getting married tomorrow. It was hard for her to believe, and even harder for her to feel good about. She needed to talk to someone who would tell her that she was doing the right thing, someone who would know what the right thing was. And the only person who could do that was Darkwing.

The entire house was silent as she made her way to the room where Darkwing was being kept. Her friends, being Normals, instinctively went to sleep at this hour, and she knew that Darkwing, deprived of the drive to fight crime at night, would be asleep too. She found the door to his room and reached out her hand towards the knob. Losing her nerve, she withdrew it, then took a deep breath and flung the door open.

Darkwing's form was straight, leaning against a wall. The room was small - in actuality, it was a closet - and Morgana was by his side in no time. She stroked his cheek lovingly. "Dark?" she asked softly.

His eyes snapped open. "Morgana! My sweetest darling, my reason for living - why have you blessed me with this visit?"

"Darkwing, be serious for a moment," she began.

"I am being serious, my precious jewel! There is no flippancy involved in my relationship with you - I take you seriously in every respect!"

"Well, then, I think we need to talk."

"I would talk with you for all of eternity, if that were what you wished, my love! You are as a pearl in a desert! A rose in a field of weeds!" Darkwing seemed less and less sincere with every compliment he spouted forth.

"Could-could you please be quiet for--"

"Silence? Silence issuing from your lips is truly golden! Morgana, you are beauty personified!"

"Thank you, Dark, but--"

"Oh, just the way you thank me is wonderful! I think I'm going to have a heart attack from your absolute wonderfulness!"

"If you don't shut up, it won't be a heart attack that kills you!" snarled Morgana.

"Gotcha," said Darkwing, and shut his mouth. He looked up at her, his eyes full of worship, and listened.

"Now, Dark, I love you dearly," she began again, and was again interrupted.

"And _I love you_," he said. "Sorry," he added as she rolled her eyes. "Go on."

"Well... Despite that love, I just have to wonder if I'm doing the right thing. I'm counting on you to tell me, dear Dark. It's your life, after all, and the choices are always yours."

He didn't even take time to think. "You blessed me when you chose me to be your husband, my love. I can do nothing but thank you for taking the choice from me."

"Oh, this isn't working!" she exploded. "Darkwing, wake up!"

He sputtered suddenly, blinked rapidly, and shook his head. "Wh-what the-- what's going on? Where am I? Morgana?" His confusion was almost comical in a way, but at the moment it was nothing more than encumbersome.

"Dark, I have a very important question to ask you. Will you answer it in all honesty?" she said seriously, trying to penetrate the haze he was in.

"Wh-huh? What question? Am I in some sort of closet?"

She took his chin in her hand and turned his face towards hers. "Dark. Listen to me. You and I are getting married tomorrow evening. I took the choice in this matter away from you. I love you and I want nothing more than to make you happy, but I need to know if you will be happy. Is this the right thing to do, Darkwing?" she said intensely, looking into his eyes.

Thickly, he said, "Married? What? This has got to be a dream. I know I discussed marriage with you before, but I thought we ended it... Wait," he said, suddenly becoming clear on a few points. "It ended when we got into a fight, and-- and then you got kidnapped... but Morgana- you weren't really kidnapped at all, were you?"

This was more than Morgana could bear to hear. Before he could get any further, she panicked, and reached into her handbag and threw a foof bomb at his feet. Instantly he was zombified again, and Morgana was left with even fewer answers than she had had before.

* * *

Everything was perfect. 

The church was dark, lit only with candles, as Aunt Nasty had requested. The wedding dress had been finished and looked lovely, just the way that Morgana had wanted it. Beth had said she could see at least twenty things that she had done wrong, but she hadn't specified what they were, and Morgana thought that the dress was wonderful. Beth had then gone on to sew up a dress for herself that Morgana had designed for her. Dark blue and tight, long-sleeved, very form fitting in all the best places. Morgana knew that Beth would wear it without another thought if she told her to, and she knew that Launchpad would _love_ it.

There were at least a hundred roses, arranged beautifully all around the room - Launchpad had done his job and done it well. Moloculo had magicked in most of the family, and the bride's side of the room was packed. Gosalyn was a bridesmaid, and Beth and Launchpad were the only ones seated on the groom's side.

Morgana looked out into the hall. The town's minister was standing at the altar, looking completely intimidated to be surrounded by monsters, and Darkwing was a few feet away from him. Morgana knew that this was supposed to be the best day of her life, so she couldn't figure out why she felt so lousy. "It's nerves," she told herself. "Nothing more." But she knew that was a lie. She knew perfectly well that she was being eaten alive by guilt.

The organ kicked in to the "Here Comes the Bride" theme in a minor key, and her father looked at her and smiled. "My little girl," he said, and it was all he could manage before starting to get choked up.

"Oh, Father, don't," said Morgana, forgetting her own worries momentarily. She took out a handkerchief and wiped his eye with it. "Everything will be the same! I'll still be your little girl!"

"Yes, but what will my grandchildren be like? Part Normal?" he asked.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, exasperated.

"I'm only joking," he assured her, patting her hand. "He's the man you want, and that's all that matters." She smiled at him and took his arm, and they started down the aisle.

On the way to the altar, she passed Launchpad and Beth. Launchpad, not surprisingly, was sobbing his eyes out. Beth was comforting him to the best of her ability.

"I-I'm sorry, Beth," he sniffled, "I just always cry at weddings!"

Beth patted him on the back and handed him a hankie that was almost identical to the one Morgana had used. "It's okay, Launchpad... You just cry your eyes out!" she said in a motherly tone. He blew his nose loudly into the hankie. "And... keep that handkerchief... as a gift," she offered weakly.

With every step, Morgana became less and less certain that this was what she wanted to do. She knew she loved Dark, but she had never thought about marriage before the time that her aunt had brought it up, and now this was all happening so quickly...

"Dearly... er... departed," began the minister nervously, looking down at his script to make sure he'd really said the right thing, "we are gathered here today..."

His voice trailed off in Morgana's mind as every doubt that she had filled her head instead. Marriage was forever. She had never believed in divorce. A union like this should be made in love, and last forever- to death, and beyond. How could she know if her love for Darkwing would last through time?

Then, suddenly, the problem that had been bothering her all along surfaced. The Darkwing she was going to be spending the rest of her life with _wasn't_ the Darkwing she loved. She remembered her attempt to talk with him the night before. Nothing intelligent had come out of his mouth, just mindless proclamations of his eternal love for her. She knew he'd love her unconditionally, because that was what she had told him to do. But she didn't think she could love what he had become for very much longer.

She considered letting him go from the spell, but then considered his reaction last night. He wouldn't agree to marry her then. He'd be mad, and would probably never speak to her again. With good reason. Morgana nearly started crying as she realized what she had done. 

"Do you, Darkwing Duck, take Morgana McCawber to be your lawfully wedded bride, in sickness, health, death, and the whole shebang? Do you promise to honor and protect her, for as long as your eternal spirits shall exist?" said the minister.

"I sure do!" said Darkwing. He turned to his bride. "I'll love you forever, Morgana, my treasure!"

"I wish I could hear you say that of your own free will," said Morgana softly. Suddenly she couldn't go through with the ceremony. It was all just a stupid farce, anyway. "Dark, darling, wake up!" she ordered.

The guests at the wedding gasped in shock as he snapped out of his hypnotic daze. "Wow," he said, shaking his head, "did I fall asleep in church again?" He noticed Morgana and something clicked. "Weren't we in a closet just a few seconds ago?" he asked her.

"All of you, wake up," she ordered of her zombie-ized slaves.

All three visibly jumped. "Look out, she's got a bomb!" shrieked Beth, then looked around her and saw where she was. She had at least one hundred Paranormal people glaring at her unhappily. "Uh, sorry?" she said timidly.

"What the... Where are we?" said Launchpad, standing over Beth protectively just in case anyone tried anything. Usually Morgana's friends and family freaked him out, but when Beth was around he was strangely brave. "Is this a church?"

"Dad! You're okay!" shouted Gosalyn, running to her father and embracing him.

"I'm fine, Gos," said Darkwing, returning the hug. He set her back down on the ground and rubbed his head. "A little confused, though. What's going on, Morgue?"

"It's definitely time for me to explain," she said, and she told them the whole story. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her father shaking his head, and scowled. Did he _have_ to treat her like a baby all the time? "...But I couldn't go through with it," she finished a few minutes later, her eyes downcast.

"Gee, Morgue, I didn't know you felt this way," said Darkwing slowly. 

She looked up in surprise. She hadn't expected this reaction at all. "Then you're not mad at me?" she said, sniffling a little.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. I mean, enslaving me _and_ my family was taking it a little out of hand," he said. "But I can be a little hard to talk to, and well, maybe I was being a little bit unreasonable." He was still speaking slowly, and she realized that he was weighing each of his words out carefully, trying to say the right thing. He _was_ mad, but he was _trying_, for her. "I'm sorry, Morgue. It's not you. I'm just not ready for marriage."

"_Yes!" whispered Beth triumphantly._

"But, Beth-" began Launchpad, then he looked down at her and noticed her outfit. "Er..." He trailed off, completely forgetting what he had been saying.

"What?" she said, and noticed herself. "Oh, my... Quick, give me something to put on over this!" He took off his tuxedo jacket and handed it to her, and she promptly enveloped herself in it. Despite the fact that she was obviously mortified, he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. Oh, well, there were always the wedding pictures to look forward to...

"So, then, you _do_ love me?" asked Morgana.

"Well, I... Of course I do," Darkwing said tenderly. Behind him, Beth let out an expression of pain, but he gave no signs of hearing it. "It's... It's just a hard thing to say, that's all. I'm sorry if I hurt you, Morgana."

"Me, too, Dark. I apologize to all of you," she said, turning to the other three. 

Beth was scowling again, but Launchpad grinned a little uneasily and said, "No hard feelin's."

Gosalyn was silent for a long time, and finally she said, "Morgana, if Dad can forgive you, so can I. I can't say I can ever imagine myself calling you Mom, but being a part of your family would _definitely_ be fun." Both Gosalyn's and Morgana's fathers looked a little disturbed by the implication. She smiled, and Morgana returned the smile warmly.

"You did the right thing by setting us free," said Darkwing.

"I know," beamed Morgana. "Oh, Dark, let's...let's _not_ get married!"

"Is that really what you want?" asked Darkwing excitedly. She nodded. Taking her hands, he cried, "Oh, Morgue, I'll love you forever!"

"You've made me the happiest ghoul in the world!" exclaimed Morgana, and kissed Darkwing passionately. The entire audience broke into applause, except two people.

Beth and Launchpad stood sobbing, for two totally different reasons. "Wh-What's wrong?" Beth managed between sobs.

"I always cry at weddings," said Launchpad. He sniffed. "What's wrong with you?"

"Uh," said Beth as she wiped her eyes. "Same thing." _Love is a beautiful thing,_ she realized. __

"Shall we dance?" asked Morgana. Darkwing nodded in assent. Morgana snapped her fingers and a waltz started up out of nowhere. The rows of seats seemed to almost melt away as they danced together, and soon there was nothing but a large empty dance floor.

After watching Morgana and Darkwing for a little while, Launchpad turned to Beth and said, "Uh, wouldja care to dance?"

She smiled, weakly but sincerely. "Sure," she said. He took her hand and began to lead her out onto the dance floor. "Oh, heck," said Beth, making a last minute decision. "This jacket'll just get in the way." She slid her arms out of his tux jacket, hesitantly at first, and then more self-assuredly. She then tossed it into the corner and smiled at him. He grinned back brilliantly, willing himself not to stare, and took her hand.

The other guests watched this display with mixed emotions. There were those who did not approve, but at the same time there were those who were delighted, and reminded of their early days of magicking. After some time, those guests stood and joined the dancing, reliving their memories, and finding a lost youth in the love coming from the non-bride and groom. All in all, for many, it was the best wedding they'd been to in centuries. 

Next: Night of the Living Henny! An experience in _**horror**_... :P

* * *

Copyright Rebecca Littlehales, 1996. Beth Webfoot created by me, R. Littlehales; all other characters are owned by Disney and are used without permission. This story may be duplicated as long as it is not sold or altered in any form. In other words, you can make lots and lots of copies, go up into a helicopter, and drop them from the sky while shouting: "YEEK! It's raining paper! Look out, it's the end of the world!" I tried it, it's REALLY fun. But if you'd rather just read the story, I can understand that... You can get nosebleeds up in copters like that.


End file.
